Charles Sheffield - The Amazing Dr. Darwin

He jumped down from the driver’s seat and grinned at his passengers with a rapid gleam of white teeth. “Jack Trelawney, at your service. Dunwell Cove or Lacksworth, sirs? Or are you for Dunwell Hall?”

The voice, like the man’s actions, was quick and economical, lacking the Cornwall burr. The brown eye scanned the two men, head to toe. Without waiting for an answer he bent to hoist the medical chest to the rear of the coach.

“Dunwell Cove. The Anchor Inn.” Darwin had done his own share of rapid observation. Jack Trelawney was of medium height and build, but he had lofted the heavy chest with no sign of effort. The tendons on the backs of his work-hardened brown hands stood out as he lifted, showing in white contrast to fingers and nails yellow-stained on their end joints as by heavy and prolonged use of tobacco.

“Very well.” Trelawney had just as rapidly loaded the other luggage. “We have a light load today, and you are the only passengers. Payment before we start, if you do not mind. Thank you, sirs.” He pocketed the money without seeming to look at it and gestured them to board.

“I think maybe a ride in front, with the weather so improved.” Darwin moved to stand close to Jack Trelawney, then paused and frowned. “What do you say, Jacob?”

“Not for me. I’m still thawing out.”

“Oh, very well. Then I’ll keep you company.” Darwin swung open the door of the coach and led the way inside. He waited until the door was closed. Trelawney had climbed up front in the driver’s seat, and the two-wheeled cabriolet was on the move. Then he was out of his place again.

“Devil take it, Erasmus, can’t you sit still for a second?” Pole, in the act of taking out pipe and tobacco, was forced to stop, because Darwin was leaning right over him, examining doors and windows. “What are you up to?”

“Looking for a way for the phantom to enter.” Grunting with effort, Darwin progressed from ceiling to floor, and was soon on hands and knees peering under the seats.

“For God’s sake! If you think the phantom hides away under there, and pops out when nobody’s looking…”

“I do not.” Darwin, hands and sleeves filthy with cobwebs and old dust, finally climbed back to his feet and dropped into his seat facing Pole. “A modification to the original vehicle, with well-fitting doors and windows. It would please my friend Richard Edgeworth, because it is not of conventional design. But it is soundly made. Be silent for a moment, Jacob. I wish to listen.”

Jacob Pole sat, straining his own ears. “I don’t hear a thing.”

“You do. Listen. That is the squeak of coach bodywork. And all the time there is the clatter of the wheels over hard surface. That snort was one of the horses, hard-breathing.”

“Of course I hear those . But they are just noises. I mean, there’s nothing to listen to .”

He had lost his audience, because Darwin was up again, this time opening a window. He stuck his head out, peering in all directions.

“The coast road, of course.” His bulk filled the opening and his voice sounded muffled. “Typical Cornwall, granite, slate and feldspar. But St. Austell has reason to be glad of that, for without decomposed feldspar there would be no treasure house of china clay. Furze, broom, and scabgrass. Poor soil. And I note lapwings, terns, and an abundance of gulls. Forty yards from road to cliffs, and beyond them a drop to the sea. Very good. And now for the other side.” He was across the coach in two steps, to open the window there.

“Are you all right, sir?”

Jack Trelawney’s voice, calling from the front of the coach, showed that he had noticed the activity within.

“Perfectly well. Enjoying the scenery and the weather.” Darwin stayed for half a minute, then closed the window and slid back to his seat. “Rising ground to the right, we’re on the edge of a little moor. More granite, of course, and no sign of people. I doubt that the ground here is very fertile.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Pole sniffed, and continued stuffing his pipe. “I didn’t know you were thinking of setting up farming here, or planting a flower garden. And I’m wondering what you are proposing to tell Milly and Kathleen. They have as little interest as I do in a catalog of local muds and rocks, and still less in the Cornish bestiary.”

“I am not proposing, initially, to tell anything. It would be premature. I intend first to ask questions. As for an inspection of the surroundings and setting of Dunwell Hall and Dunwell Cove, we are seeking to explain a strange event. And any event, no matter how strange, inhabits a natural environment, which must itself reside within limits set by the physically possible. Therefore, we must first establish those bounding conditions.”

“Aye. And after that?”

“After that we will meet the phantom; and, as Shakespeare puts it, ‘give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name.’ ”

Darwin’s tone was cheerful and confident, but Jacob Pole merely shook his head. The rest of the ride went in silence, one man smoking and the other deep in thought, until the motion of the coach slowed. Jack Trelawney rapped hard on the front of the partition.

“Dunwell Cove. What about the luggage, sir?”

“Place it all inside the inn.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” In less than a minute Trelawney had bags and medical chest down and within the door of the inn. “Be by tomorrow, about eight of the morning,” he said. And then, before Darwin and Pole had time to turn, he was back up onto the footboard of the coach and rolling away down the road.

“Not one for wasting time,” said Pole gruffly. But there was no further chance to comment on Jack Trelawney’s departure, because the inn door was opening again, and a woman emerged.

“Cousin!” She ran forward and gave Pole a hearty hug, then turned to his companion. “And here is the great Dr. Darwin. Exactly as I imagined you from Jacob’s descriptions, but much more handsome.”

“And you, madam, are much more beautiful.” Darwin offered his hand, at the same time as he gave Pole an accusing side-glance. “I have seldom seen so fair a complexion or so engaging a smile. Indeed, were it not for the color of your hair, I would mistake you for your own daughter, Kathleen.”

“Now, sir!” Milly Meredith was fair, short, and plump, with red cheeks and lively blue eyes. She dimpled at the compliment, then shook her head. “Although neither Kathleen nor I is able to smile much at the moment. If you will come inside, I have something new that I must show you.”

She led the way. The interior of the Anchor Inn was dim-lit, since the glazed windows were small and the frugal innkeeper would offer no oil lights until darkness forced it. But the table was set, and at Milly’s nod a stout woman in a flowered skirt headed at once for the kitchen.

Milly sat by the window and invited the two men to take seats across from her at the long bench. “Your room is ready upstairs, but I thought that after your long journey you might welcome a meal. I hope that travel has not spoiled your appetite.”

“Not in the least.” Darwin placed himself opposite Milly. “I am famished, and look forward to dinner with the liveliest anticipation.”

“I fear that it will be fare less fancy than you are accustomed to. Only Cornish pasties, with potatoes, leeks, pickled onions, and pickled cauliflowers.”

“It sounds excellent—and I will not inquire as to what form of meat may be in the pasty. There is an old Cornish saying, madam: ‘The Devil will not come into Cornwall, for fear of being made into a pie.’ ”

Milly Meredith laughed, but Darwin sensed the undercurrent of anxiety within the sound and went on, “Perhaps we can dispose of serious concerns before dinner, ma’am. First, you mentioned that there is something new?”